


Love Is Not This

by TheDemonsMadeMeDoIt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Don't worry Dean is the good guy, Dubious Consent, F/M, Smut, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 19:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15691662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDemonsMadeMeDoIt/pseuds/TheDemonsMadeMeDoIt
Summary: Reader is in an unhealthy relationship that continues to spiral. A heated conversation with Dean about her relationship causes a rift to develop between them.





	1. Chapter 1

“He was here, wasn’t he?” Dean surveyed the room. Two glasses sat on the library table. My clothes were strewn across the floor. In the middle of it all I sat wrapped in a blanket; my eyes red and swollen from crying.

“Yes, he was here,” I chocked back a sob. 

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Dean was leaning on a chair, frustration clouding his face. I shook my head, looking back down to the vodka bottle in my hand. I couldn’t explain it to him, he’d never understand. 

 

*Hours earlier*

I heard my phone chime in the middle of cleaning. The boys were out on a hunt; they’d left me at the bunker to research further cases.  
Thinking Sam was checking up on me I didn’t rush to the phone. Only after two more messages came through in quick succession did I decide it was time to see what the Winchesters needed. 

“Hello, beautiful…”

“How are you?”

“I miss you…”

Definitely not the Winchesters I thought, biting my lip. I looked at my phone screen contemplating my reply.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael had been in my life for three years; we’d met at a nearby bar. The boys and I had been celebrating something and I’d let my guard down. He seemed nice, genuine even and as an added bonus he wasn’t a hunter.   
His charm won me over quickly. After some innocent flirting and some not so innocent dancing, I eagerly accepted an invitation to continue our evening at his place.

The sex was amazing; he was gentle, considerate and attentive. In the morning I gave him my number but didn’t expect to hear from him. He surprised me though; messaging several times that day. Somehow managing to maintain a steady conversation over the coming months. 

I wasn’t used to the attention Michael gave me. I’d always sunk into the background or gone unnoticed by men like him. So, it was no surprise that I fell for him quickly.   
Dean and Sam would tease me, “Ooooh look at Y/N on the phone. She must be messaging her boyfriend again.” Their taunts were often accompanied by air kisses and giggles. 

The first time Michael came to the bunker (a location I explained via a vague familial historical inheritance) I’d made the mistake of leaving him alone with Dean for a few minutes. When I returned he was white; I found out later Dean had assumed the role of big brother and chief protector. Warning Michael that if he ever hurt me there were countless ways that he could make him suffer, in graphic detail. The next chance I had, I tore Dean to pieces; he and Sammy were the closest thing to family I’d ever known but I wasn’t going to stand for him being an overprotective jerk. 

For once I had something good in my life and I wanted it to last. Well at least I thought I did initially, but over time Michael changed.   
He became distant and hard to reach; things he blamed on work pressures and a crazy schedule. He’d grow increasingly defensive if I questioned him. 

Slowly the changes crept into the bedroom as well. Where he’d once gone out of his way to please me, his needs began to override mine. At the same time his desires became harder and harder to meet. If I were away he was no longer satisfied with hearing my voice; he wanted explicit photos and sometimes videos. While we’d been adventurous before, he began to test all of my limits. 

Despite my better judgement I succumb to every whim and want. Giving myself to him in ways I never dreamed I would. Still it wasn’t enough to bring him back to the person I’d known early on. 

The greatest pain he inflicted came when he would visit the bunker. He’d barely say hello before he was on me, pawing at my body and taking what he needed. There was no love, no intimacy and definitely no care. When he was done he’d place a kiss on my cheek and leave like nothing had happened. 

The first time Dean found me crying I’d been able to explain it away; a silly fight I’d said, nothing to worry about. After the tenth time, Dean didn’t buy my lies. 

“You’ll tell me what he did to you. I swear I’ll make him pay.” I could see his rage but it was cut by his concern for me. So, I did tell him. Everything. The degradation, humiliation, loneliness and confusion Michael had me feeling was laid bare. When I was done I made him promise not to go after Michael, he wasn’t worth it and worst of all I still wanted him. In return Dean made me promise to end all contact with Michael.

I couldn’t do it though and every time Michael contacted me I’d jump at the chance for his attention. 

Returning from a particularly taxing hunt, Dean found me crying again. This time he was angry with me. 

“Do you enjoy being his whore?” The regret was evident as soon as the words left his mouth but the damage was done. 

“Better to be somebody’s whore, rather than everybody’s nothing.” I screamed, so hurt by his words. Running to my room, I slammed the door ignoring Dean’s pleas from the other side. Two weeks went by without a single word between us, until he found me downing vodka and crying in the library.


	3. Chapter 3

As I tapped out a response, I convinced myself this visit would be different. After all he admitted he missed me; this time I knew he’d make me feel adored. 

When I greeted him in the garage, Michael made his intentions clear. 

“I missed you baby.” He pulled me close, hands pressing against my ass so I could feel his excitement. His lips pressed rough kisses against my neck, my cheeks flushing in response. He knew how and where to touch me. 

I moved my hands to his shirt, wanting to undress him but he brushed my hands away. I reached to touch his cheeks and found my hands pinned to my sides. 

He spun me quickly towards the library pushing me into the room. I wanted him to take his time but he had other ideas. He pulled my clothes from me roughly, leaving me cold and exposed. 

“You are not to touch me, do you understand?” His words were cold.

“Yes,” I said dropping my head in submission. 

Again, he spun me; pushing down on my back until I was pressed against the table. I heard his zipper move and a rustle of clothing before he was on me. 

His pace was savage, every move executed for his pleasure. I was used to a little pain each time I saw him. But this time there was no pleasure to take the edge off. 

As he drew closer to his end, his fingers tangled in my hair. With each thrust he’d pull a little harder on the strands until I could feel tears welling. 

I balled my hands into fists against the table. My nails dug into the flesh of my palms; distracting me from the pain radiating from my core. 

When his hand moved to my throat I consoled myself with the knowledge that he was almost done. He’d told me once it was the ultimate feeling of power for him; squeezing against my breath and watching me grow faint. For a while, I’d enjoyed the rush I’d felt in those moments but it became too frequent. It seemed to be the only way he could find a release; his grip tighter and held for longer each time. 

The edges of my vision began to blur as his thrusts grew more erratic. I closed my eyes, fighting against the light-headedness that threatened to envelop me. 

I heard a strained expletive from behind me as his hips stilled. Suddenly, I could breathe again; his hand leaving my throat to trail along my spine. He pulled himself from me roughly, moving quickly to straighten his clothes.

I shivered from the loss of contact, my skin prickled with goosebumps. The sharp pain Id felt as he drove into me was gone but the discomfort continued to spread. 

Material brushed against my arm and I realised Michael had thrown a blanket at me. Slowly I turned to face him, my legs unsteady. The blanket warmed me but it didn’t shield me from the look on his face. It was a strange mix of pity and arrogance; a look no-one should give a person they care about. Holding my composure, I realised his keys were already in his hand. 

Despite the callous way he’d used my body I found myself asking him to stay. I couldn’t help myself; as long as he was there I mattered. If he left I was nothing again. So, I bargained, one hour, one drink, five minutes more. When that didn’t work, I begged; all my strength fading. I could fight the worst monsters and see things no-one should but against this man I was powerless. 

As each plea fell from my lips I hated myself a little more. When the first tears spilled he shook his head. 

“Pathetic,” he almost spat the words at me. A look of superiority flashed across his face as he finally left the library. 

I fell into the nearest chair, listening to each piercing sound of his departure; staying there until Dean found me.


	4. Chapter 4

“Why Y/N, tell me why?” Dean was inches from my face now. His closeness snapping me back to the present. 

“What does it matter, we both know what you think of me.” I fixed him with a cold stare. The vodka hadn’t erased Michael but it was making it easier to turn my emotions off.

“I’m sorry, I never meant…”

“Save it,” I cut him off. “You were right, I’m nothing more than a whore to him.” I looked passed Dean. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his eyes.   
“Why are you even bothering?” My words seemed to sting, his frustration morphing into hurt and anger.

“Because I care, I want better for you.” His voice rose, spurred by his anger.

I shook my head, bringing the bottle towards my lips. Dean’s hand shot forward snatching it away. 

“Hey I’m still drinking that.” I lurched from the chair, noticing the room tilt. My legs buckled refusing to support my weight. Dean was there in an instant, catching me before I collapsed. 

“Come on princess lets get you to bed,” he was careful to hold me steady as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. 

“Sure, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Your turn with the whore of Lebanon.” My words were slurring but it was obvious I’d hurt him again. Dean closed his eyes, trying to quell his anger. 

“You’re drunk, hurt and lashing out so I’m going to let that slide.”  
He moved to my side, I suppose he thought he could help me walk to my room. Instead I kicked him in the shin, hard. 

“Fuck, Y/N I’m trying to help.”

“Don’t want your fucking help, want to stay here, drink some more and feel even less.” I tried to push him away but he caught my hand. 

“Not happening and being hurt doesn’t give you a free pass to be a brat!” His voice told me was serious; that I should listen to him. But in that moment, he was the only person to be angry at so I didn’t plan to let up. 

Raising my arm, I took an awkward swing which Dean dodged easily. The action threw me off balance; this time I was wrapped in a strong hug. 

“That’s it, if you won’t go I’ll carry you.” There was a little bit of lightness in his voice as he tried not to laugh at my clumsy attempts of violence. 

My feet no longer touched the floor as Dean moved me quickly through the corridors. Initially I fought against him. Hitting and kicking. But slowly the drunken haze enveloped me and my desire to fight ebbed. 

When we reached my room, Dean put me down but kept his arms around me. 

“In, now.” He moved one hand to the door almost pushing me inside with the other. 

Dean watched my progress as I reached my bed and fell into a heap. I felt my eyes grow heavy but I needed to have the last word. 

“No-one cares about me, I’m nothing.” My words were followed almost immediately by a light snore.

Dean looked at me shaking his head, “Sweetheart, you have no idea how wrong you are.”


End file.
